


Watch

by OzQueen



Series: babysitters100 [56]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 21:11:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3743668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OzQueen/pseuds/OzQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mallory knew her parents loved each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in a little serious of five hurt/comfort ficlets, with the hurt/comfort being observed by a third party. I wanted to set myself a bit of a challenge :) Each ficlet should be 500 words exactly. (I use Scrivener, and according to this program, this piece is 500 words.) I'm not sure when the others will follow. This one is set during _#39 Poor Mallory_ , but if you're unfamiliar with it you should still be okay.

Mallory lowered herself down carefully, sitting on the stair third from the top, the light from the living room below throwing a striped shadow from the banister against the wall. The house was silent, except for the low murmur of her mother’s voice.

“Do you remember that nursery rhyme we used to read the girls? Monday’s child is fair of face, Tuesday’s child is full of grace…”

“Wednesday’s child is full of woe,” Mallory’s father answered, and his laugh rolled low through the air, making Mallory smile.

“Were you a Wednesday child?” Mom asked. “I was a Friday child. Friday’s child is loving and giving.” Her smile curved her words, her voice light and teasing. “I got the best one.”

Mallory heard her dad make a sound between a sigh and a laugh. “No argument there, honey. I think I was born on a Thursday. What was Thursday’s child?”

Mallory recited the nursery rhyme through in her mind and reached the line the same moment her mother spoke it: “Thursday’s child has far to go.”

Dad laughed again, and Mallory leaned forward a little so she could see around the living room door. He sat on the end of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his shirt sleeves rolled up. Her mother sat on her heels in front of him, her hand on his knee. 

“It’ll be okay,” she whispered. Mallory barely heard it; she read it on her lips and understood it more from the familiar tone of her voice. 

Dinner had been tense - full of questions and worry. Still, her parents had held their heads high and assured them that things would be all right. Money would be tight until Dad found a new job, but they’d manage.

Now, though - without the company of his children - Mallory could see the look of worry and fear on her father’s face. It made sweat prickle cold on her skin. 

“Let’s not worry about it until Monday,” Mom suggested quietly. She lifted a hand to cup Dad’s face, her shadow moving across the floor. Mallory leaned forward a little more, tucking her hair behind her ears. 

“One last carefree weekend?”

“Yeah.” She smiled and rose up on her knees to kiss him. 

Mallory watched her father’s fingers comb gently through her mother’s hair, and she took their moment of distraction to retreat back to her bedroom.

Mallory knew her parents loved each other. They didn't exactly hide it, but what she’d just witnessed had been a quieter, more private moment than anything she was used to. 

She remembered the look of worry on her father’s face, and the quiet tones of encouragement her mother had murmured to him. Her parents never lied to her, but she knew now there was such a thing as a promise made more out of hope than truth.

She went back to bed - still worried about her father’s job, still worried about money, but less worried about her parents than she had ever been.


End file.
